If I heard this siren on a time and day
Other than 2pm on the month’s first Monday
Would my flight or fight or curiosity kick in?
How will I move in a world approaching ruin?
Will I head away from troubled curved cooling towers
Sharing the car filled with furred, feathered, and handsome on a road trip for hours?
Do we hole up in the basement with the camp stove, well water and canned goods
Protected by cinder block walls, clay soils and doors of wood.
Or does the suction of the fridge door opening proceed the crack of a couple beer cans and the creak of the deck chairs
Flair and glare reflecting in aviators, life somewhere between psychedelic dream and nightmare.
To some this may seem devil-may-care
(Curiosity wins again)
(An Azby Poem)